


Hanging Out

by AmberrInk



Category: South Park
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Open to Interpretation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 13:51:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17561618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberrInk/pseuds/AmberrInk
Summary: Hanging lights up on the house for Christmas was a relatively simple and traditional task. It doesn’t quite feel that way when Kyle stops by and decides he doesn’t feel like listening.





	Hanging Out

“Hey dude.”

Stan was rifling through a box of tangled Christmas lights in his front yard when he heard quite the familiar voice. Looking up, he found Kyle standing nearby, his gloved hands rubbing together to garner some warmth to stave off the cold night air.

“Hey,” Stan managed to greet, despite how busy his hands were trying to make heads or tails of the clusterfuck of plastic in his hands. There was no mistake though – he was actually pleasantly surprised to have some company.

“What are you doing?” Kyle came and squatted down to give a hand with the tangled mess, trying to pull apart the two different sets he could only assume Stan had been sitting in the snow and fighting with for some time.

“Putting the lights up,” Stan answers. “Or. Trying to.”

“By yourself?” Kyle asks with that upward inflection in his voice that told Stan that he would be genuinely a bit concerned and confused as why Stan would take on such a task by himself.

“No,” Stan sighs, leaning backwards some as they manage to pull apart the two different strands of lights. “My dad was out here starting it, but then he went inside to get some beer and hasn’t come back yet.”

“Oh,” Kyle sounds in understanding. They both stand upright, and as Stan attempts to straighten out what he has, Kyle takes one end and heads toward the long ladder that was leaned up against the front of the house. “Well, I’ll help you with it, dude. It looks like you only have the front left to put up, right?”

“Uh…” Stan shuffles over with the small tumbleweed of bulbs cradled in his hands. “I don’t know if you should do that. Let me be the one on the ladder and you feed me the string.”

Already placing his hand up on one of the rungs of the ladder, Kyle looks back at him in question. “Why?”

“Well…” Stan glances up at the height of the ladder, the top of it barely coming past the gutter of his two-story home by a foot. It was pretty damn high. “Aren’t you a little short to reach far?”

In all honesty, Stan knew nearly immediately that he should have taken the time to choose his words more carefully, because in that instant Kyle took it as a challenge.

“No,” he responds with an expression that was definitely less than pleased, starting to climb up in spite of Stan by putting his foot up one step. “I can do it. Besides, if your dad went in a while ago to get beer, then I’m probably doing you a favor in the long run, dude.”

“You got me there…” Stan mutters, knowing well that trying to finish putting up the lights, even just one last set, would take exponentially more time with a drunken father leading the way. In fact, the chance of injury would be far higher, not to mention so would his own embarrassment.

Carefully, Kyle climbs up the ladder, the metal form creaking under the weight of Kyle’s feet but staying sturdy. Stan came up closer to stand at the bottom, hearing only Kyle breathing as he ascended more cautiously once he neared the roof.  Somehow, there was an air of peacefulness about the whole thing – the lights already on the house glowing against the night sky quaintly, the hush of the snow and cold making even a raucous town like theirs feel quiet. Still, Stan felt a sense of unease in his gut, despite those traditional holiday vibes of the scene.

“There’s some snow in the way,” Kyle says, brushing away at the drift that was spilling over the gutter all along that left side of the house. After a moment of trying with his hand, he seems fed up with it and leaves the end of the lights hanging over the ladder’s rung. “This will take forever. I’ll just get on the roof.”

“Dude.” Stan tilts his head as his friend climbs up. Taking several steps back and disrupting the perfectly laid snow of his front yard, he gives Kyle something of an indignant look. “Come on. We just gotta hang the lights.”

Kyle sits his butt down easily on the slant of the roof, using his shoe to kick off the extra pile of snow sitting at the edge. “It’ll be quicker this way,” he assures, managing to knock off more of the light white fluff that had accumulated in that spot. When enough was out of the way, Kyle agilely stands up, looking around with some wonder at the view. “Wow, this is pretty high.”

“Yeah, but it’s easier to hang stuff from the ladder, you know,” Stan urges, growing a bit impatient. It would definitely get stressful if his dad decided to come out now while Kyle was still standing precariously on the roof. “So, don’t try it that way and lemme feed it up to you!”

“Yeah don’t worry, I’m just looking,” Kyle convinces him, but then goes and heads further up the roof anyway.

Feeling himself already starting to hold his breath when Kyle disappears over the roof, Stan stretches his neck to see the top of his house better. A moment passes and before he can say anything, he hears Kyle quickly shout, “ _Woah_!”

“Holy shit…” Stan breathes. Eyes widening, he helplessly imagines the worst. He listens closely for movement, but wasn’t entirely sure if he just heard the wind or the thump of a body hitting the snow. Did Kyle fall? The last thing he wanted to do was find his best friend on the ground and knocked into a coma. It was too damn high and dangerous, he knew it. Why was Kyle so shit at listening?

“Kyle?!” Stan shouts after a stretch of unnerving silence.

Just before Stan moves, Kyle comes back over the ridge of the rooftop with something in hand. “Hey! There was this old baseball stuck up against your chimney.”

“Dude, I thought you fucking fell,” Stan huffs loudly. He catches the old ball that Kyle throws down to him. It didn’t even look familiar. When did that get up there?

“Have a little faith in me,” Kyle laughs.

Tossing the ball aside, Stan makes his way back over, climbing up quickly with the lights around the crook of his elbow. “Alright, seriously dude, I’m coming up there to help you.”

Kyle’s sitting there at the top of the ladder, legs on either side of it and hanging slightly over the gutter. “Hey Stan,” he says, putting the sole of his Converse shoe against the top rung once the other has reached the top.  

“What?” Stan looks up.

“ _Long live the king_ ,” Kyle utters, before then just barely extending his leg like he was going to push the ladder backwards, and it does, in fact, just barely shift.

Instantly, Stan grabs hard for the sides of the ladder in a split second of fear of falling backwards, but of course, he doesn’t. Kyle wouldn’t do that.

“Oh, fuck you…” Stan glowers. Still, he cracks a smile, slowly lighting up at the lighthearted laughter bubbling out from Kyle.


End file.
